


Print of the lovers

by Fabule



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, HP:EWE, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabule/pseuds/Fabule
Summary: Seven years have passed since the battle of Hogwarts. Harry lives his life happily with his friends, his family and his job. He can't say he spared a thought for old school grudges. Until he was reminded of Draco Malfoy.





	Print of the lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ; Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and Bloomsburry. This fiction is just an amateur work.

 

Chapt. 1 : A matter of jam

 

Harry quietly left the Ministry of Magic and went out into the street. He took a deep breath as he was walking in the direction of the bridges. Today, he was in charge of the mission "Jam". The Aurors had a break room with armchairs, tea, coffee and bread but for a matter of tight budget, there was no marmalade available. The Aurors had quickly added the task "Jam" to the agenda, a rotation had been established and everyone was found one day or another responsible for supplying his colleagues with the precious mixture.

 

Harry loved this tradition as well as he loved his job, the office atmosphere and his rituals. Sometimes, for some cases, he worked with Hermione at the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creature and they ended up finding Ron at the joke shop for a drink at the pub. If Ginny had finished her Quidditch training, she would join them.

 

Harry walked briskly, the Borough Market was not the closest but he loved the stroll along the Thames. After staying all morning inside his cubicle, the fresh air did him the greatest good. A light breeze filtered through his hair and the trees were adorned with red and gold. The colors of Gryffindor he remarked with a smile.

 

He arrived under the arches of the market ; the place was crowded as usual. He slipped between the stalls to get to Madame Hubert's booth. She greeted him with a jovial smile while packing a customer's purchases.

“Hello Mr. Potter ! What a wonderful time isn’t it ? ”

“ Indeed Mrs Hubert. We hope it lasts. ”

“ What would you like today ? ”

“ Two pots of plum jam, last time my colleagues finished it in one day. ”

“ Well since they like it so much, I make you the second half price. ”

“ You are too kind ! ”

“ With pleasure. You'll send yours colleagues to thank me ” the stallholder added with a wink and Harry chuckled.

His purchase in hand, he was about to leave but his ear was attracted to something. Not much, just a few notes of music. Piano, he recognised. The sounds rang out above the clamor of the crowd. Tin ti-ti-tin tintin tin ... Harry did not know much about music but oddly that air seemed familiar. A group of people had gathered at a corner of the market. The sounds continued, aerial, they assembled together composing a melody mysterious and sweet, melancholy and noble. Hogwarts, he thought. This music reminds me of Hogwarts. She relaxed in the air, sank into a harmonious flow. She gave him chills. He moved closer to the crowd. A bunch of notes and it was as if the owls were bursting in the Great Hall to deliver the mail. Harry snuck at the front row. He could see the pianist from behind, clad in an old shapeless sweater. His fingers hammered the keys of his instrument and the music flow. Harry had the impression that she was going to explode in the manner of a Dr. Filibuster's firecracker, but it became thinner, changed state and nuance while retaining its essence. Exactly like magic.

When the last note sounded, it floated a moment of absence and then the audience broke into applaud. The pianist turned around and Harry has a shock.

It was Malfoy.

And at the same time it wasn’t him because this idiot would never have consented to dress with muggle clothes, even less with worn, tired and wrinkled ones. The pseudo-Malfoy greeted his audience and took a cap on a patched bag at his feet. When he saw him pass in front of people, Harry convinced himself that he was wrong. Malfoy would never have asked for a coin, rich (and arrogant) as he was. He looked in his pocket for a muggle coin, he had to have one from his purchase. He looked up. Malfoy was standing in front of him, cap stretched out. It was the same gray eyes, the same pale complexion and the same blond hair as the terribly snobbish student he had known at Hogwarts. The resemblance was striking. Harry gave him the first thing he had in his hand. Malfoy barely nodded and continued his quest. He watched him go away in silence. A bell rang the half and he came back to his senses. The next meeting with Robard was going to start in five minutes and he quickly left the market.

 

* * *

 

Stirring the sauce with an ample gesture, Mrs. Weasley was smiling serenely. Two Sundays a month, the whole family gathered together, children, daughters-in-law, sons-in-law and grandchildren. Mrs. Weasley loved these moments, she felt like the happiest mother and the most fulfilled grandmother. Sometimes a veil of shadow landed on her heart when her mind drifted on what the future might have reserved for her dead son, Fred. He died in battle and was buried with honors, but the medals did not repay all the time and the investment a mother gives to raise her child. It was at best a consolation, never a compensation. Nothing could fill this void even more present in Georges the surviving twin than her own. She crushed a tear with a swift gesture as he and his family were just coming out of the fireplace. His two children, Fred and Roxanne threw themselves at her neck and her dark thoughts flew away. She kissed them, hugged them and shouted to her husband to hurry up ; Angelina and the twins are here, where have you gone yet ? And George, could you help move the table in the dining room ? There will never be enough room otherwise !

 

Percy arrived in his most beautiful purple dress with an imperious air and wine under one arm, his wife and daughters under the other. He was followed by Bill and Fleur with Mrs. Tonks and the little Teddy Lupin who rushed to join the twins while Victoire was hiding behind her mother, her face crimson. Mr Weasley came back from the cellar with bottles of red only to be caught by Percy who absolutely insisted on comparing the wines and their quality.

With loud bursts of laughter, Teddy, Fred and Roxanne disappeared into one of the bedrooms upstairs, chased by Angelina who was shouting for them to come down and help. Fleur and her daughter went to fetch the cutlery while Bill and George enlarged the dining room and exchanging pleasantries. In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley added the latest spices to her sauce, chatting with Andromeda about her grandson's latest exploits. Percy's wife, Audrey was preparing the appetizers. Ron and Hermione finally arrived with ice cream. Harry and Ginny were the last ones to come, bringing pies for the desert. The tables were ready and everyone could sit down to enjoy the meal.

 

“ Harry why are you sulking ? What has happened to you ? ” Hermione asked, unfolding her napkin.

“ I missed the "Jam" mission ” Harry explained darkly. Ron understood right away.

“ No luck, mate, what did they give you as a pledge ? When it happened to me, I had to bring tea to the whole department for a month ! After that I always kept jars of jam in my drawer. ”

“ I need to list and class all the fake black magic alerts this year. ”

“ And it's October, ” Ron grimaced. “ There must be at least six full boxes filled. ”

“ Eight. ”

“ Isn’t this tradition a bit ridiculous ? ” Hermione wondered. “ All this circus for having forgotten a jam ... ”

“ But I didn’t forget it ! ”

“ No, you just gave it to the wrong person ” laughed Ginny, putting an arm around his neck.

“ I didn’t notice, it was the first thing I had in my hand ! ”

“ Dura lex sed lex, the law is hard but it's the law. ”

“ Since when do you know Latin ? ”

“ Since my wife is the smartest witch ” Ron winked at him.

Hermione’s cheek turned pink but she didn’t deny the compliment.

“ Who got the jam ” she asked, amused.

“ A street musician. ” And Harry added casually. “ You will not believe me but he was the spitting image of Draco Malfoy ”

The adults stopped talking and all the pairs of eyes were fixed on him. Only the children didn’t notice, too busy with Teddy's ever-changing grimaces. When he changed his nose into a snout, Victoire laughed so hard that she was threw in a fit of hiccups to the delight of Roxanne. The poor girl hid under the table.

“ Malfoy as in Draco Malfoy ? ”

“ Are you sure it was him ? Street musician, it isn’t the kind of his family ...”

“ Unless he plots something. If they have an advantage, those snobs are ready for anything. Just see how they suddenly changed sides during the war.”

“ Could we avoid talking about it ? It's not really appropriate for kids.”

“ They will learn it one day or another, Audrey.”

“ Calm down !” Harry defended himself, taken by surprise by the turn of the conversation. “ I don’t know if it was him, we were in a muggle market and he didn't say a word.”

“ A muggle market ? What could he be doing there ? ”

“ It's suspicious. Stand on your guard Harry. Perhaps point it out to the authorities, it would be safer. ”

“ Molly, you worry for nothing. Harry himself isn’t convinced of what he saw. ”

“ Arthur is right. Knowing my sister, Narcissa would go to a witch grocery store or send a servant. ”

“ Their vaults didn’t suffer too much from the war. It's more than one can say about their reputation. ”

“ What I don’t understand is why Malfoy would go to a market to buy jam …”

“ Pfffft ! Right now his fool must surely bask in one of his luxury villas. ”

“ Anyway, we’re better off without them. Fred, stop catapulting meatballs in your uncle's plate ! ”

“ It's nothing Angelina ” excused Percy in a precious tone while discreetly wiping the splatter on his robe. “ We get our heads up for nothing. As I always say, we must act with order, method and precision. I repeated it again last night to my team ; order, method and precision. ”

“ We all know your speeches ! ” Fleur cut him off. “ Georges, tell me more about this new product for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. You intend to open a ray on the love pranks, am I wrong ? ”

The meal resumed normally and no more attention was paid to the question.

“ In short I gave the jam instead of a coin" Harry explained quickly. “ After I was late for the meeting with Robbard"

“ No jam, no party," Ron concluded.

And the evening went on smoothly. The Malfoys, the jam and the market were all forgotten.

 

* * *

 

6 o'clock struck the big clock of the ministry. The employees packed their belongings, closed their briefcases, took a last look at their work - for the most conscientious - or went straight to the exit - for those in a hurry. The maintenance staff then took over to mop the floor, empty the trash cans and brick floors before leaving in turn. Only the night guards remained in the building. And Harry.

 

Who dreamed of igniting the eight boxes filled with false alarms and which he was convinced that more than half had been sent by a too lazy police to go and check the facts by itself. Could it possibly, perhaps, eventually be black magic? Do not check, contact Aurors directly !

 

Like the others, Harry had sometimes had to patrol in area to find traces of the great black threatening sorcerer that some wizards too gullible were sure to have seen in the back of their gardens. By deontology someone always sent but you quickly distinguished the joke from the urgency. Generally it was either revenge between neighbour, either gossip or a prank. In his early years as an Auror, false alarms were sometimes due to young witches eager to get their hands on the Savior of the Wizarding World by playing the damsels in distress. It lasted until Rita Skeeter broke their hopes by publishing an article about the torrid romance between him and Ginny Weasley, the new Harpy Hunter.

Usually Harry treated the petitions with kindness, now he cursed them by archiving the 4,561st evidence of suspicious behavior. He had arrived at the seventh box but the eighth and last box still seemed so far away. Slouching on his desk, Harry scanned the next complaint with a sigh. His gaze stopped on one word in particular ; " Draco Malfoy ".

 

He straightened up. He hadn’t seen him since the war tribunals where he had testified on his behalf. The two men had never been friends but Malfoy had just been a stupid kid caught in a game too big for him. Moreover, he owed his mother a debt for saving his life by lying to Lord Voldemort. In defending his son, Harry had repaid his debt. In the end he had testified only out of pity and obligation. Did Malfoy have any idea? Is it for that reason that he never thanked him, accidentally making Ron mad with rage ? Harry had just turned the page. When the verdict returned, the two wizards had continued their paths each on their side and had not crossed any more. It was seven years ago.

 

Today, sitting in his cubicle in the Auror Department, Harry couldn’t say that he had cared a lot about his former school enemy. Yet the story of the market came back to him and he leaned against his chair. He wondered how Malfoy was spending his time now. With his feet stretched in front of him, he began to read.

 

> File number : 4,562
> 
> Date ; August 18, 2004
> 
> Object;Death Eater - Draco Malfoy
> 
> Contact person ; Mary Adams
> 
> Description ; threats on minors
> 
> Investigator ; Auror J. Mattheus
> 
> Report ; After investigation, it turned out that former Death Eater Draco Malfoy went to the Pagford district on August 18, 2004. The reason for his coming was the Pagford Amateur Quidditch Club who had invited him to give a educational conference for young people. Contrary to the beliefs of Mr. Malfoy Junior, the organizers of the meeting did not aim at a speech about the virtues of the nobility but a sermon on the importance of making good, wise decisions so as not to spoil his future. Furious, Mr. Malfoy Junior left the club uttering ill-meaning invectives, unfortunately heard by the fifty-year-old witch Mary Adams, living in a neighbouring house of the Quidditch Club. Having only the interests of the children at heart, this venerable lady contacted us immediately. For fairness, Mr Malfoy was contacted to confirm the facts. He replied by owl (see document in attachment), demanding not to be bothered by the idiotic divagations of the proletarians and informing us graciously that following his imminent departure for the islands, he would only be reachable by international owl.

 

"Ron was right" Harry thought. "The git has holed up in one of his residences. Prick one day,prick for ever."

He closed the file and stretched his arms as far as he could behind him. He heard his vertebrae crack with a satisfying pop. "Some people will never change." He rubbed his eyes. "At least, that settles the history of the market. I was wrong." He glanced tiredly at his work. Still one more box and a half to go. He slumped back in his chair, seriously thinking of keeping jam in his drawer.

 

* * *

 

“ Good evening Mrs. Hubert. ”

“ Mr Potter! How are you ? ”

“ I'm fine and you. Not too cold ? ”

“ Oh yes ! Fortunately I have my little heating with me.”

 

This time Harry chooses ten jars of apricot jam and berry.

“ Don’t you have any music tonight ? ”

“ I’m sorry ? ”

“ Piano. I heard it last time.”

“ Ah, you didn’t notice ? The city council has disposed of many of those instruments in different neighbourhoods for a cultural event if I am not mistaken. They’re decorated by different artists and invite passersby to try to play music. ”

“ When will I have the pleasure of listening to you play, Mrs. Hubert ?” Harry teased.

“ Never ! My sheets music is my recipes not music theory ! ”

“ Who else then ? ”

“ Those who feel like it, I guess ” Mrs. Hubert shrugged. “ It ranges from those who press a few notes for fun to those who improvise a recital. It depends really. ”

“ Last time a blond musician played a song I never heard before. I found it very beautiful. ”

A flash of recognition passed in Mrs. Hubert's eyes.

“ You probably mean Posh.”

“ Posh ? ”

“ We call him so. He’s a wandering musician who comes quite often. From time to time, Mr. Wilkins offers him a meal for his melodies. He plays very well, you know.”

“ When can I hear him ? ”

“ Lunchtime is your best chance. Although he’s often found in the late afternoon too.”

Harry nodded and hesitated over a pot of onion confit. Ginny liked it a lot but she had gone with her team for a match in Devon.

“ Is his name really Posh ? ”

“ No, nobody knows his name. We nicknamed him so because he speaks like a lord. But tell me, Mr Potter, when will I have the pleasure of listening to you play ? ”

He burst out laughing and added the confit to the jams to the delight of the merchant. He greeted her with a warm gesture and left. As he left the arcades, he tightened his scarf around his neck. It was early October, the cold was settling fast.


End file.
